


After Camelot

by unwittingcatalyst



Series: Season Two Missing Scenes [1]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Episode: s02e12 Camelot/3000, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 04:56:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14663771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unwittingcatalyst/pseuds/unwittingcatalyst
Summary: “You’re mad at me,” he stated calmly.Nate gave him that hard stare, then got the mayo from the fridge.“Yeah,” Nate finally said with a resigned tone. “I was.”“You aren’t anymore?” Ray challenged.Nate sighed. “OK, sure, I still am. Doesn’t do me any good though, does it? You’re still going to go off and do ridiculously stupid, dangerous things, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.” The frustration in his voice extended to how he made his sandwich, making his movements sloppy as he slathered on mayo and slapped on sandwich meat.





	After Camelot

**Author's Note:**

> Nate was more and more upset at Ray during the Camelot episode. How did that resolve? Conversation between Ray and Nate.
> 
> I want to thank MeganBagels for her generosity in reading an earlier draft of this one.

Ray knew he’d gotten a bit lost in Camelot—nothing to do with time drift, everything to do with Arthur and Galahad and Gwinevere embodying his deepest ideals. He had thought, as he’d walked onto the battlefield, that he’d never regret giving everything he was to them.

His friend Nate had quite obviously not agreed. In the moment it had been irritating, had felt like not being understood.

But now, remembering the impatience and anger in Nate’s face and words, he was touched. Nate believed no less in similar enough ideals, but Camelot itself had held no particular power over him. Instead, it was friendship that had led Nate to follow him onto that battlefield.

Nate had not talked with him after they’d gotten back to the ship—was perhaps avoiding him. Ray was not going to do the same. Nate might think he was foolish—might never change that opinion—and that was fine. Ray was used to people looking askance at his ideas, ideals, and at himself. But—he wasn’t used to people being angry on his behalf, even if that anger was directed at him. He owed Nate his thanks.

He found Nate making a sandwich in the galley, and confronted him there.

“You’re mad at me,” he stated calmly.

Nate gave him that hard stare, then got the mayo from the fridge.

“Yeah,” Nate finally said with a resigned tone. “I was.”

“You aren’t anymore?” Ray challenged.

Nate sighed. “OK, sure, I still am. Doesn’t do me any good though, does it? You’re still going to go off and do ridiculously stupid, dangerous things, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.” The frustration in his voice extended to how he made his sandwich, making his movements sloppy as he slathered on mayo and slapped on sandwich meat. 

“You know why I did it,” Ray replied quietly. 

“Yeah. I mean, kind of. Intellectually. You thought it was important. It’s just—“

Ray deliberately kept quiet as Nate paused, ready to listen attentively to whatever Nate had to say.

“I felt like we were losing you. You were so caught up—I’ve never seen you so—so enthusiastic about anything, and _that’s_ saying something—or so devoted to something—and, that’s saying something too. ‘Enthusiastic’ and ‘devoted’ kind of define you.”

Ray stared at Nate. Maybe Nate got him better than he’d thought.

Nate hadn’t noticed and was still explaining. “And then—it looked like we were really going to lose you. Like you were going to die. That picture, in the manuscript—you, dead.” Ray was picking up on distinct agitation in his manner, and it made Ray uncomfortable—Nate shouldn’t have worried so much, and it all had turned out fine. But he could tell Nate wasn’t done yet, and so he stayed quiet.

“And you could have. You almost did. If Mick hadn’t—“

“Mick?” Ray asked.

“You don’t know what happened, after you ran off to get yourself killed.” Ray almost winced at the sharp bitterness in Nate’s tone, so different from his usually easygoing manner.

Nate spoke bluntly. “Sara was going to leave you. We had what we came for, and I hadn’t been able to talk you out of it. It was Mick who spoke up and said he was going to stay behind to fight with you. And that started a domino effect, and Sara was overruled, outnumbered.”

Ray stared at him, astonished. Nate’s tone softened and he smiled sadly, misunderstanding what had Ray so taken aback. “Don’t blame Sara. She—she hated what she was deciding, I could tell. From what you all have said, she must have been trying to channel the old Rip there.”

Ray sat down heavily. “No—Sara was making the right call. All of you—you didn’t have to—“

“Yes, we did,” Nate said gently, forgetting his sandwich and sitting next to Ray. “I mean, for larger reasons, it turned out to be the right thing to do—Jax and Stein and Mick were able to disable the mind control devices and end the battle—“ At Ray’s questioning look Nate explained, “Sara assigned Mick to that, since it was where he could help most. And we got Rip back, sort of, almost accidentally. But that’s not why we did it. We couldn’t leave you alone to get yourself killed.”

They were quiet for a bit. Nate got up and brought his sandwich over. 

He still had more to say. “What I want to know is, why did you go off after the Black Knight—after Damien Darkh? Even with your souped up sword, you didn’t have a chance against a League of Assassins fighter.”

Ray smiled wryly and pointed out, “I _did_ win that fight—until he pulled a gun on me.”

“Right, because you fought fair and he didn’t.” Nate’s voice was weary.

“I took precautions.” Ray couldn’t help the defensiveness in his tone. “I wore the suit under the armor.”

“I’m glad you did—that’s the only reason you’re alive now. Doesn’t answer my question.”

Ray took himself back to that moment, and spoke more fervently than he had meant to. “When Rip fell to Arthur’s attack, Darkh just left him.” Ray felt the same disgust again at Darkh’s dishonorable action. “He said something about not doing rescues.” Ray shook his head. “How I felt when I heard that—that’s the real reason I went after him. But also—Darkh is our problem, our enemy—he was only plaguing Camelot because he was trying to get the spear fragment before we did.”

“And Camelot only exists in the form we found it because of the spear fragment—because ‘Merlin’ took her memories of the Camelot legends and influenced those folks.”

“Still, however they came about, they were real, they were there,” Ray argued earnestly.

Nate said then, understanding in his eyes, “You were pissed at him.”

Ray laughed slightly, remembering the utter fury he’d felt. “You could say that.” 

Nate spoke unhappily. ”If he had shot at your head instead, you’d be dead”

Ray had no response to that. 

After they’d sat quietly again for a bit, Nate looked at Ray with a mix of fondness, exasperation, and worry in his eyes. “You really aren’t going to change, are you? You’re going to keep doing things like this.”

Ray could only shrug. “I admit, I might have gotten a bit carried away by it all this time. But—it’s why I’m here.” 

Nate sighed again, and then started in on his sandwich. Ray got up to make himself a cup of tea. 

After finishing a bite, Nate asked. “So, did you just want to give me a chance to get all that off my chest—to be mad at you?”

“Pretty much. And I also wanted to say thank you.”

Nate gave him a puzzled look.

“You were—are—mad at me because you were worried about me. Out of friendship.” Ray smiled at him, letting a bit of the grateful wonder he felt into his voice. He brought his tea over. His words then were heartfelt. “I’m lucky to have such a friend.”

Nate looked strangely pained at that as Ray sat down again. “Oh Ray. Of course—“ he shook his head impatiently. “You shouldn’t be so surprised at that.” Then Nate looked thoughtful. “Does this have anything to do with how you talked about being lonely as a kid?—with just stuff like these Camelot stories for company?”

Ray stared into his tea uncomfortably. He’d revealed too much when he’d said that. “Something like that,” he admitted.

Nate shook his head again. “I guess I can relate—being cooped up as a kid didn’t help much with making friends. I mostly buried myself in my studies—history and languages.” Nate’s smile was warm then. “So, I’m pretty lucky too. Just—I like my friends alive. Think you could work on that?”

Ray thought Nate was right—he shouldn’t feel so grateful to hear such things. But he did. He could only reply, “I’ll do my best.”


End file.
